Bloganuary Tag : Day 23-24

Bloganuary Tag Header Image 23-24

I dreamed a dream…

Hello Twisties!

Welcome back to another Bloganuary post. The prompt is now available and I am excited to write again for you. If you haven’t read it already, be sure to check back to my last post for more fun answers, or take a read of all of my Bloganuary posts under the ‘Bloganuary’ category in the right-hand menu.

What Is Bloganuary?

A fun and quirky amalgamation of ‘blog’ and ‘January’ (obviously), Bloganuary is a brand new tag award run by WordPress. Every day, a question or prompt can be sent to you for you to answer on your blog, however you so please. Why wait? Get involved with other bloggers, make new connections, reach new audiences and drive more traffic to your site today!

Fancy taking part in the Bloganuary tag? Click here

And now, let’s begin…

Day 23: Interview a fictional character.

This prompt right here? This is like the stuff of nightmares for me. I’ve never conducted an interview, and I don’t really really enjoy fiction that much either. Nope, I was let completely stymied for what to do for this prompt.

But then I had an idea…

You see, it was in the format of an interview, a transcript, that I thought of something else – playscripts! Yes! I would tell you about one of my favourite English playscripts, that I also had to study in school. Oh sure, it deviates from the topic, but then creativity is only ever what you make it. 

Written by Dennis Potter, Blue Remembered Hills tells the story of a group of young English children caught up in the drama of World War Two. The group set off over the hills to play when the sound of the siren from the Prisoner of War camp wails out. Enthralled by the new adventure, the children decide to pursue and capture the escapee, with tragic consequences for this group of friends.

For me, this play is one of many enthralling pieces that demonstrates the reality of war and the innocent lives that are often caught up in it. Reflective and emotional, this was a piece that stayed with me for days. 

 

Day 24: Write about a dream you remember.

Ahh yes, there have been many bizarre dreams over the years.

Let’s not do just one though, let’s do three today, because I’m feeling generous again and I can spare some time. The first is weird, the second is weird but also a recurrent dream that I have, and the third will leave you with chills for sure!

Ladies. gentlemen and all of the fair people who read my blog, please allow me to introduce Mr Hungry.

I grew up in an area which was a hotspot for crime. Our neighbours were the main culprits and their aunt lived opposite, with two more unrelated (but friendly with them) families nearby.. It’s why I like this song so much, it reminds me that no matter where I may go or who I may be, I still remember where I grew up. It keeps me humble and not hating on people for lesser crimes. 

Anyway… 

On this one occasion, I dreamt that our local police force had a little drone-helicopter thing, Mr Hungry, that could fold up really small and fly through peoples’ letterboxes, then unfold once he was inside their home and fly about and detect drugs. If he detected drugs, sirens would blare out and then a straw would emerge from the side of Mr Hungry and he would suck up the people who were responsible for committing the crime. Mr Hungry would then fly out and take them off to prison. 

Mr Hungry had been doing the rounds of my neighbourhood, sucking up my neighbours and taking them off to prison. He didn’t even bother me anymore, my neighbours were bad people and I knew that my family weren’t.

But then he flew into our home.

I watched him hover in the lounge and then the sirens blared out. The straw emerged from his side and there was a loud sound as Mr Hungry tried to suck up my Mum and Dad. I cried and screamed as I hid behind the sofa, scared and confused by what it all meant. 

Like any kid, it took a few nights of convincing me that Mr Hungry wasn’t real to get me to go to sleep again!

The second dream, the recurring dream and which also takes place in the same house, involves the bridge that I used to see from my bedroom window. In this dream, I dreamt that there was a robotic arch-type structure that used to move back and forth across the bridge and “clean” (it was always a smelly, dirty thing anyway!) it, and my Mum would not let me go outside whilst the bridge was being cleaned. At the same time, there would be a swarm of low-flying spy satellites that would fly over our house and monitor any signals or take pictures of people that were outside their homes, with usually a low humming, buzzing sound and audible beeps and whistles as these satellites flew over. I later did some research and found out that to dream that you’re being spied on means that you feel as though you’re being watched and evaluated, which is definitely true for me – despite my cool and confident appearance, I’m quite prone to episodes where I feel as though I’m not good enough and it can take the work of my nearest and dearest to help get me back out of it again. Thank you, screwed up childhood!

And now for the really spooky one…

After my grandfather died in 2005, my mother and brother had “visits” from him. I was jealous in a way, I wanted a visit too – it would have been much easier than missing him! Eventually my jealousy went away and not much more was said. 

One of the characteristics my mother mentioned was that when she saw him, my grandfather faded away after his visit “like sand”. Before he left her, on his last visit he gave her three pieces of good news: My brother, who had been arrested for possessing child pornography, would be released without charge. I would do well on my exams, and although moving house to look after my grandmother was stressful, it would go fine in the end. Within the months that followed, the following three things happened:

My brother was released without charge (although he and the female that he’d been ‘interacting’ with were both cautioned about their behaviour because they were both underage), I passed my GCSE exams with four Grade C’s, a Grade B in mathematics and a pass at level 2 (equivalent to an A*) in Preparation For Working Life, or as I more aptly liked to call it, the common fucking sense test. Four days before my 18th birthday and after several unsuccessful sales of our old home, we finally and formally moved in with my grandmother. 

How spooky is that?!

But wait! There’s more…

I remember having a dream one night and in the dream, it was very reminiscent of a normal childhood visit to my grandparents’ house. Nan came outside to meet us, my Mum was there, there was laughing, talking and cake, all very normal things. I got called into my Nan’s house through the back door, which was very normal as it was always wide open, and so in I went. 

Grandad was sat in his winged back chair with his back to the window. A military man, grandad was a man of few words. I used to sit and listen to Grandad’s tales of war and adventure, so whenever Grandad spoke, I’d listen to what he had to say. 

“Cover your eyes now Helen, Grandad needs to leave” Mum said.

But leave to go where? Grandad is at home!

I covered my eyes with my hands, but I continued to watch through the gaps in my fingers. As I did, my Grandad disappeared – like sand. 

 

That’s it from me for today Twisties! Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for my next Bloganuary post!

Until next time, 

Stay safe & have fun,

Helen xx  

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